


Milk

by smellyleaf



Category: Olympics RPF, RPF - Fandom, Swimming RPF
Genre: M/M, Milk, Real person fiction; Real person slash; explicit sexual content ; pure smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 06:03:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4553490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smellyleaf/pseuds/smellyleaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <b>[THIS WORK WAS IMPORTED FROM SMELLYFIC.LIVEJOURNAL.COM]</b>
</p>
    </blockquote>





	Milk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [agape_eternal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agape_eternal/gifts).



> **[THIS WORK WAS IMPORTED FROM SMELLYFIC.LIVEJOURNAL.COM]**

**[Based on[this](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m82ehiOnjP1rbxnlao5_1280.jpg) fucking SEXY picture of Ryan, which was [her prompt on XXX](http://lyrics-soul.livejournal.com/10880.html?thread=693120#t693120).]**

 

  
It occurrs to him, in the depths of sleep, that he is way too stretched out on the bed.

When Michael Phelps opens his eyes, the lightest yellow sunshine is streaming through the window across the bedroom and the digital clock read 6:57 AM. Stretching lazily, he runs his palm along the empty left side of the bed, the side where Ryan should be. It's too early to be awake, and he closes his eyes again, listening to distant footsteps from all the way downstairs: _Ryan_. Knowing where he's at makes it okay to fall back asleep, but even still, it's accidental.

He dozes off again for a few minutes, and when he wakes up again, the first thing he sees is Ryan. His arms are up, one forearm propped against the doorjamb, the other holding his glass of milk. He's just leaning in the doorway, drinking the milk and looking at Michael.

Michael runs his eyes over him, taking it all in because _he's allowed, dammit_. He starts from the bottom, the loose red basketball shorts hanging off Ryan's bare hips. Michael's white wifebeater ( _and boy does it look good on all that perfect tan skin_ ), which is bunched up at the stomach from Ryan Not Giving A Fuck, and yeah, Michael takes a moment to appreciate that six-pack. _Who wouldn't?_

And while he's appreciating that, he might as well appreciate those biceps, triceps, every muscle known to man. Hell, even Ryan's collarbones look sexy, the way they pull away from the rest of him, casting shadows on his skin that are certainly appealing.

Then he finally makes it up along that jawline to the eyes, and that's where he stops.

Ryan winks at him and Michael has to admit ( _without shame, fuck that_ ), he gets an instant boner.

Then he's setting that glass of milk ( _only Ryan could make MILK sexy, for fuck's sake_ ) on their dusty wooden floor and padding across it. Tugging the hems of his shorts up an inch so his knees can bend, Ryan crawls onto the foot of the bed and makes his way towards the headboard, and Michael.

Watching him crawl is like, a _new, totally unfair level of orgasmic sexiness_. Or something like that. Michael's brain is flat-lining.

"Please tell me," Michael breathes, watching as Ryan gently tugs down on his boxers, licking his lips, "How someone who looks like me ended up with an Abercrombie model?"

Ryan chuckles, but his laughter is a little muffled as he runs his lips along Michael's bare inner thigh. Turning his head to the right, he sticks out his tongue as far as it will go and nudges Michael's dick with it, watching it bob around.

"Please tell me," Ryan stops talking long enough to drop down on Michael, giving him one blissful suck before pulling away again, "How a mere mortal like me ended up with the Little Mermaid?"

"Little?"

Ryan smiles wickedly, "You're right, never little." He wraps his hand around Michael's throbbing dick as a form of example.

They don't talk for a minute. Ryan straddles Michael's legs, teasing him with the very tips of his fingers running up and down the underside of his dick. Michael groans, running his hands up under the baggy legs of Ryan's gym shorts and up. _And, sweet Jesus, he's not even wearing underwear. How can one person be so fuckable?_

"We should be unpacking," Ryan murmurs softly against Michael's neck, leaning far into him and cocking his ass up a couple inches. Michael reads his mind, and his hand keeps traveling, swooping up and around Ryan's hip, then down to grab onto a big handful of his ass. Then Michael moans, because even that is like _holy fuck_.

Michael squeezes his ass again, letting his hand covertly slide closer and closer to the prize, until he can run one finger right down Ryan's crack. Turning his head slightly to breathe warm air into his ear, Michael smiles, "Lemme hit that."

Ryan shudders pleasurably, leaning farther into Michael, and it's as good as a yes between the two of them.

Reaching with his other hand, Michael fumbles blindly in their bedside table's top drawer until he pulls out the lube he's looking for. Then, lifting his legs, he wraps them firmly around Ryan before the other can try to escape and rolls them over, reversing their position.

First thing to go is the wifebeater, because he likes Ryan's brown nipples (and pinches them to prove the point). Next is those fucking shorts, because _what the fuck, totally unnecessary_.

It only takes one of his large hands to pin down both of Ryan's wrists above his head, leaving Michael's other hand happily free. Popping the cap on the bottle with his thumb, Michael fumbles it only a little to pour it out onto his own fingers. Then he throws the bottle haphazardly over his shoulder and drops his hand down.

When that first finger slides in, Ryan's back arches like it does and Michael's dick makes it's presence known, throbbing painfully. He's trying to ignore it for at least a minute, but _damn_.

One isn't really enough, but the second finger is where things get good. Michael is certainly attentive to Ryan, pushing his fingers up to the third joint and crooking them twice.

Oh, yeah, it hits the spot. Ryan's own dick is flushed red he's so excited, and dripping precum. But that's nothing compared to the way he breaks out in goosebumps when Michael toys with his prostate.

Smiling, Michael bends forward to nip him along the jaw, "Daddy knows all the right spots, huh?"

Ryan just moans and nods, lifting his hips up.

"Are you ready?"

He nods again, more impatiently, and Michael is so ready for it himself that he doesn't feel like teasing. _Too much_. Running his eyes over Ryan, laid out for the taking like that, he aligns himself and just barely pushes forward, letting just the head of his dick slip in.

He lets Ryan's wrists go for leverage, and next thing he's got nails digging into his back, trying to rock him forward, "Fuck me."

Michael pushes, lets himself slide in halfway, then pulls back out again. Ryan is wriggling beneath him, and his nails are starting to sting.

But he doesn't make Ryan tell him twice. Once he sees that look on his face, the one that says exactly how much he wants it, Michael is pleased. So he completes his thrust, rocking his hips slowly for a start.

Ryan moans deeply in the back of his throat, eyes rolling back in his head, and stops gripping Michael quite so hard with his hands. But his legs come up to rest around the area of Michael's ribcage.

Ryan tenses inside and Michael blacks out for a second.

"Stop fucking tightening it, you're gonna make me finish," He's already breathing heavy and they just got started and _how many medals has he won? Fucking shameful._

"Well then stop babying me and fuck me harder."

That's a request Michael can really believe in. Shifting the position of his feet against the baseboard, he uses the extra leverage for one hard thrust. But then Ryan tenses once more, and those spots swim in his vision again.

"I can't if you're gonna do that, holy shit."

Ryan smiles, "Okay okay, I promise I'll be good."

So he lets Michael take control, and the tempo of it all finally goes up.

"Harder!" Ryan says in an inhale of air, nails digging into Michael's shoulderblades again.

Sliding one arm up under Ryan, Michael lifts him up and rocks back onto his own knees, using his arms to move Ryan instead of moving himself. His lover's head tips back and every vein in his neck is set in sharp relief.

"Michael!" Ryan tenses again, but this time it's not intentional, this time he's coming. His eyes roll back in his head and Michael grips him tighter around the waist and shoves his hips forward as much as they'll go, closing his eyes and pushing his face into Ryan's chest as he finishes inside him.

They breathe heavily together for a second or two, then Michael drops back, with Ryan still attached. Laying together, Ryan's head on his chest, they take a minute to relax, but they never pull apart.

"I can feel your pulse." Ryan mumbles, looking like he might fall asleep.

Michael smiles, "Well maybe later I can feel yours."

"Deal."  


**Author's Note:**

> **[This was originally written from a prompt by agape_eternal.]**


End file.
